The Worst Day of the Year
It's -8 outside.
It would’ve been impossible for my siblings and I to hang out with our mom and dad growing up. We had three different sires between the four of us.
Plus, our sister Ellen was dying of pediatric brain cancer for 11 years. Sean and Fiona don’t really remember her. I do.
So much fracture. So much pain, just passed around. You know how it feels, don’t you?
This big family of mine has healed me. Do I want to run away more days than I can count? Yep! Do I rage inside the way my mother raged? Duh. Do I grieve and grumble when I think about the number of times I die every day to their development, to them? Yeah.
AND: They have saved me. He has saved me. I have saved me, too. The Gospel, 12 steps, and good music helped.
Good and Hard, stitched together. Till death do them part. We call that Goodhardgood. We call that…life. I hate that part.
I hate that we belong to this place full of fear, division, and greed. I hate the ache of abandonment. I hate that it’s below freezing. I hate that housing and groceries and healthcare require more than anyone can easily give. Don’t you want it to feel easy?
I do.
I love that I don’t have cancer cells dividing in my marrow anymore. I love that my kids don’t, either. I love that my dog has the fluffiest coat, and my cat the loudest purr.
I love that I could cry in bed this morning into the chest of a man who fathered all four of my children. A man who stayed even though I put his son in the NICU to withdraw safely from the pain meds. A man who creates invoices, manages payroll, and somehow also preps dinner.
So good. I love that part.
I hate/love life…
The truth is, I know shit about shit, and here is one thing I’ve learned:
We are promised nothing except the next step, the next thing. We have a choice regarding the whisper we choose to follow— Love, or Fear. Would you be willing to take that next step in Love? A Next Loving Step? You will notice fear, and it will often feel sticky. You will cower and cry in bed some mornings. You will regret it all, collapse. And, you will have everything you need.
You will smile at how the sun moves across a day in the sky above you. You will care much less about lots of things. You will turn the music up. You will pause to pet the dog and literally smell the roses. You will ask for lots of help, and hydrate well. You will feel sturdy, capable, effective, soft, strong, sexy (unless your hormones are fucked, then you’ll feel fucked).
You will not be better at life, whatever that means. In fact, you will need more breaks, more rest, more slow (which is just impossible to do in this robot world). You will need a team and you will need orgasms. You will yell at the kiddos, lots at first, then less and less. Then one day, they’ll want to cuddle with you.
It was such an awful life for so long, being a bastard with a dying sister and all. It was so awful the first and second times I was diagnosed with cancer. It was awful when I started sneaking David’s Adderall while 8 months pregnant because nobody taught me how to feel a single feeling and god aren’t methamphetamines incredible. It’s awful everywhere.
But can you even believe how perfect the light is at 2pm? Sneaking through your kitchen window?